LOGINCassandra's lungs burned as she ran.
Branches whipped at her face, leaving stinging scratches across her cheeks. Roots clawed at her feet, threatening to send her sprawling. The forest was a blur of green and brown, the sounds of pursuit growing closer with every step.
But she didn't stop. She couldn't.
The file was clutched to her chest—the evidence her mother died for. The truth that would finally bring Marcus Kane to his knees. She held onto it like a lifeline, her fingers numb from the cold.
Dante's grip was firm on her hand, guiding her through the darkness. He knew these woods. He'd been here before, hunting and being hunted. He moved with purpose, his eyes scanning for an escape, his jaw set with determination.
"Don't stop," he urged. "Whatever you do, don't stop."
Cassandra didn't. She pushed through the pain, the fear, the exhaustion. She ran.
---
They reached a fork in the path.
Dante skidded to a halt, his eyes darting between the two routes. The footsteps were getting closer—shouts echoing through the trees, the crackle of branches under heavy boots.
"We need to split up," he said, his voice tight.
Cassandra's heart dropped. "What?"
"You and I take the left path. Adrian goes right. He's the one with the file. They'll follow us."
Adrian's face went pale. "I can't—I won't leave her."
"Adrian, listen to me." Cassandra grabbed his shoulders, her eyes fierce. "The file is everything. Everything. If they get it, my mother died for nothing. You need to keep it safe. You need to get it to your contacts."
Adrian's throat bobbed. "Cassandra—"
"I'll find you." She squeezed his arm. "I promise."
Adrian stared at her for a long moment. Then he nodded, his eyes glistening. He pressed the file into his jacket, his grip tight.
"I'll keep it safe," he said. "I promise."
Cassandra nodded. "Go."
Adrian ran. He disappeared into the darkness of the right path, his footsteps fading into the distance.
Cassandra and Dante took the left path, plunging deeper into the forest.
---
The hunters followed.
Cassandra could hear them behind her—voices, footsteps, the pounding of their boots against the earth. They were close. Too close.
Dante pulled her behind a thicket, pressing her against the cold stone of a cliff face. They huddled together, their breath mingling, their hearts pounding in unison.
"Stay still," he whispered against her ear. "Don't make a sound."
Cassandra held her breath. She pressed herself against the rock, willing herself to disappear. The hunters passed by, their voices fading into the distance.
Cassandra's body trembled. "We made it."
Dante's forehead rested against hers. "For now."
She could feel his breath on her skin, warm and steady. She could feel his hands on her arms, steadying her. She could feel the strength of his body shielding hers.
"We need to find somewhere to hide," he said quietly. "Just for a few hours."
Cassandra nodded. Her legs were shaking, her body finally giving in to the exhaustion. She couldn't run much longer.
Dante led her to a small cave hidden behind a waterfall. The water cascaded down in a curtain of silver, masking their entrance. He pulled her inside, the cave damp and cool, the sound of the water muffling everything else.
"Just a few hours," he said, settling against the wall. "Enough to catch our breath."
Cassandra sank down beside him, her body finally giving out. She was shaking, her teeth chattering, her skin pale.
Dante pulled her into his arms, his warmth seeping into her bones. His hands rubbed her arms, her back, trying to chase away the cold.
"I've got you," he whispered. "I've got you."
Cassandra clung to him, her face buried in his chest. "What if we don't make it? What if we don't survive this?"
Dante pulled back, his hands cupping her face. His eyes were dark, intense.
"We will," he said. "I'm not letting anything happen to you. You're the only thing that matters."
Cassandra stared at him. Her throat tightened. She knew he meant it. He always meant it.
"I was so scared," she whispered. "Not of dying. Of losing you."
Dante kissed her forehead, her nose, her lips. "You're not losing me. I'm right here. I'm always right here."
They kissed, soft and desperate. A promise in the darkness.
---
Hours later, Adrian called.
Cassandra's phone buzzed, the sound jarring in the quiet cave. She fumbled for it, her heart pounding.
"Adrian?"
"I made it." His voice was breathless, but relieved. "I'm with my contacts. The file is safe. Cassandra, we can do this. We can take him down."
Cassandra's throat tightened. "Thank you. Thank you for not giving up."
"I promised your mother," Adrian said quietly. "I should have kept it a long time ago. But I'm keeping it now."
Cassandra smiled, her eyes burning. "I'll find you. We'll finish this together."
"Be careful, Cassandra. They're still looking for you."
"I know. We'll be careful."
---
Cassandra and Dante emerged from the cave, the night air cool against their skin. The forest was quiet, the hunters gone.
But as they walked toward the main road, headlights cut through the darkness.
A car pulled up. The window rolled down.
Isabella smiled.
"Need a ride?"
Cassandra's blood ran cold. Isabella. Of all people.
Dante stepped forward, his jaw tight. "What are you doing here?"
"I came to help." Isabella's smile didn't waver. "I know you don't trust me. I don't blame you. But I'm your only way out of here."
Cassandra looked at Dante. His face was unreadable.
"Get in," Isabella said. "Or stay here and wait for them to find you. It's your choice."
Cassandra made a decision.
Dante couldn't sleep.He sat in the hospital waiting room, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead. The vending machine whirred. The night nurse shuffled past, her footsteps soft against the linoleum.He didn't look up.The memory played on a loop in his mind—Donald's face, the gunshot, the body falling. He'd killed before. He'd killed his own father. He'd killed men who deserved it. But this time, it felt different.He didn't want to do it.He'd stood there, his finger on the trigger, his hand trembling. He'd listened to Donald's apologies, his regrets, his broken words. He'd seen the fear in his eyes. And he'd pulled the trigger anyway.He stood abruptly.He needed air. He needed to get out of this room, out of this hospital, away from the beeping monitors and the antiseptic smell. He walked through the automatic doors and stepped outside.The night air was cold against his skin. The parking lot was empty—just a few cars, a few streetli
Cassandra stared at the text.Congratulations on the baby. Too bad she won't live to see her first birthday.Her blood ran cold. Her hands trembled. Her heart stopped.She showed Dante. His face went pale—then dark with fury."He's not going to touch her," Dante said. His voice was ice. "I won't let him."---Dante made a decision.No more waiting. No more traps. He was going after Donald. Tonight. And this time, he wasn't coming back until Donald was dead or in custody.Cassandra insisted on coming.Dante refused. He told her it was too dangerous. He told her she needed to stay with Grace. He told her he couldn't risk her.She wouldn't back down."I'm not letting you face him alone," she said. "Not after what he said about Grace.""Cassandra—""I'm coming."They devised a strategy.Marco, Evan, Adrian, and Daniel would provide backup. Samantha would stay with Grace at the hospital. Dante and Cassandra would confront Donald together.---Evan tracked Donald to an abandoned warehouse o
Dante stared at the text."You want the records? Come and get them. Bring Cassandra. Or I'll release everything." His jaw tightened. His hands curled into fists around the phone.Cassandra stood beside him, her hand on his arm. "What does it say?"He showed her.She read it twice. Her face went pale. "It's a trap.""I know.""But if you don't go—""He'll release the records." Dante's voice was flat. "Every crime. Every secret. Every murder. The Moretti name will be destroyed. And he'll keep hunting us."Cassandra insisted on coming.Dante refused. He told her it was too dangerous. He told her she needed to stay with Grace. He told her he couldn't risk her.She wouldn't back down."I'm not letting you walk into a trap alone," she said. "We face this together. Or not at all."Before Dante could respond, Grace's cry cut through the house.It wasn't her usual hungry wail. It was weak. Feeble. A thin, reedy sound that made Cassandra's blood run cold.She rushed to the nursery.Grace was p
Dante took Cassandra to look at properties by the lake.They'd been searching for weeks—ever since that night on the porch when he'd promised her a real home. He'd made calls, talked to real estate agents, narrowed down the list. Now, finally, they were here.The first house was too big. A sprawling mansion with more rooms than they could ever fill. Cassandra walked through it, her footsteps echoing against the marble floors, and shook her head."Too cold," she said. "Too empty."Dante nodded. He didn't argue.---The second house was too small.A tiny cabin with one bedroom and a kitchen that barely fit two people. Cassandra stood in the doorway, looking at the cramped space, and laughed."We'd kill each other within a week."Dante grinned. "Probably."---The third house was perfect.It was a small cottage on the edge of the water—wooden, warm, surrounded by trees. The paint was peeling. The floors creaked. The roof needed work. But it had something the other houses didn't.It had s
Cassandra stared at the photograph.It was Grace—sleeping in her crib, her tiny fists curled against her chest, her face peaceful. The photograph was taken from outside the window. From the garden. From the darkness.Her blood ran cold.She showed Dante. His face went pale. His jaw tightened. His hands curled into fists at his sides."Who sent this?" he demanded."I don't know." Her voice was shaking. "There's no return address. No name. Nothing."Dante ordered a full security sweep.Marco and his men searched the property—the garden, the fence line, the trees. They found footprints outside the nursery window. Fresh. Someone had been there. Recently.Dante doubled the security. Tripled it. He told Cassandra she wasn't to leave the house. No exceptions.She didn't argue.---Evan dug into the letter that afternoon.He examined the handwriting. The paper. The photograph. He cross-referenced everything with old files, old records, old enemies.He found something.A name. Someone connecte
Grace wouldn't sleep.She'd been crying for hours—not the soft, hungry cry from before, but a piercing, relentless wail that seemed to echo through the entire house. Cassandra had tried everything. Feeding. Changing. Rocking. Singing. Nothing worked.She was exhausted. Her body still ached from the birth. Her eyes burned with fatigue. Her mind was foggy.Dante was beside her, just as exhausted. He'd been taking turns with her—walking Grace around the room, singing softly, begging her to sleep. His voice was hoarse. His eyes were red."She hates us," he muttered."She doesn't hate us. She's a baby.""She's a tyrant."---At 5 AM, Cassandra broke down.She was sitting on the floor of the nursery, her back against the wall, tears streaming down her face. Grace was still crying in her arms. The sound was like a knife through her skull."I can't do this," she whispered. "I can't. I'm not strong enough."Dante found her there. He sat beside her, his back against the wall, his shoulder brush







